


Etiquette Lessons

by eeyore9990



Series: Porn for Inspiration [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-22 19:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2519783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In some part of him, Stiles was aware that Scott was trying to get his attention, but he was finding it <i>really fucking hard</i> to concentrate on anything but the DILF leaning back on the bar not ten feet away, his white v-neck showing off the definition of his chest as well as highlighting the <i>thickness</i> of his neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raeyl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raeyl/gifts).



> For Raeylokami on Tumblr, who hit her first TWO checkpoints. :D Congrats, bb!

"Stiles."

In some part of him, Stiles was aware that Scott was trying to get his attention, but he was finding it _really fucking hard_ to concentrate on anything but the DILF leaning back on the bar not ten feet away, his white v-neck showing off the definition of his chest as well as highlighting the _thickness_ of his neck. 

" _Stiles_!"

"I want to sit on his dick," Stiles announced, finally breaking his staring contest with the line of beautiful guy's neck. "Scott, this is a problem."

"Well, it's not as big a problem as the fact that you're dripping your drink all over the table, dude." 

Frowning, Stiles looked down at where he was stirring his Long Island Iced Tea with his straw, only to realize that he'd, at some point, managed to get his straw on the _outside_ of the tall glass and was stirring the air instead, flicking little drops of his drink everywhere as he did so. Grinning an apology at Scott, Stiles swished his cardboard coaster over the table, trying to soak up the liquid with it and generally just making a bigger mess.

"Dude, leave it. Allison will be here soon, and you know girls. They always have like… extra napkins and tissues and shit in their purses."

Stiles reached across the table, laying one hand over Scott's arm and making his eyes absurdly big. "Tell me the truth, Scotty. Are you gonna be able to survive the coming months? I mean… Allison will be _here_ , at Berkeley," Stiles gestured to the too-tight girl's cut tshirt he was wearing -- ironically, okay, not because he put it on to make fun of Allison's choice of school and got stuck in it. "And we'll be _all the way across the world_ at SFSU. Thirty seven entire minutes by car."

"Nah, I'll be fine," Scott said, grinning. "After all, our apartment is only _thirty_ minutes from her dorm, so that's seven whole less minutes for me to pine."

"Yeah, and I'm not exactly above coming to visit, _often_ , if all the scenery is as good as it is tonight." Shoving the straw back in his glass, Stiles grabbed his drink, brought it to his lips, and chased the straw with his tongue while sliding his gaze back over to Seriously Hot Thick-Necked Sex God. 

Who was looking straight back at him, beautiful mouth curved up in a sort of sly humor that made Stiles instantly hotter for the dude. He just knew, from the twist of those lips, that this guy could meet him sass for sass… and maybe even come out on top. 

Well, definitely on top. He looked very toppy. 

"I still want to ride his dick," Stiles sighed, not bothering to break the staring contest he was holding with the guy. "You can just tell it'll be really fucking thick. 'Split you open and make you cry' thick. And he'll be merciless with it. Just pull you down and make you take it and--"

"Please, Stiles. Please shut up."

But Stiles was already shutting up, because it occurred to him, perhaps a little too late, that the guy was apparently fluent at lip reading, based on the way his expression was morphing from humor to a rather dark, burning lust. One beautifully shaped brow arched high on Seriously Hot Thick-Necked Sex God's forehead, and his eyes narrowed in calculation before dragging down the little of Stiles that could be seen while he was seated at the tall-backed booth. With a shit-eating grin, Stiles bounded up from his seat and did a slow, cat-walk worthy turn before whipping back around to see if he met with Sex God's approval. 

Only to find his Sex God standing right in front of him. With a little _meep_ of surprise, Stiles knocked backward into his table, making Scott curse when the drinks on it all sloshed parts of their contents all over the place. Sex God either didn't notice Stiles' clumsiness, or didn't care about it, because he just leaned deep into Stiles' space and whispered, "Peter."

"Hnnn?" Stiles asked, dragging in a shaky breath that filled his nostrils with the overwhelmingly _delicious_ scent of Sex God's cologne. He tried not to be obvious about it when he tilted his head and took another deep breath.

"Peter. I thought it would be nice for you to know the name you'll be screaming this evening when I split you open on my dick until you cry." The low murmuring in his ear was sexy, and it took a moment to ignore the shivers it sent down his spine long enough to realize exactly what Peter had just said. 

Pressing closer until their bodies were a whisper from touching, Stiles said, "It's not polite to eavesdrop."

Peter's hand slid around his back, fingers teasing under the hemline of his shirt and easing into the waistband of his jeans to drag along the divots at the base of his spine. "Really? Tell me more. I've never been accused of possessing fine manners." 

"I don't mind giving you a crash course in etiquette. Say, your place, ten minutes?" Stiles had no idea where he was getting this confidence from, maybe it was a by product of leaving home and moving into his own place with Scott to finish out their last two years of college. Maybe it was the only slightly illegal drinks he'd hurriedly downed before -- and after -- arriving at this bar.

"Ah, you've a head for planning. How adorable."

Stiles couldn't stop himself from sliding his hands up Peter's chest to get his hands on those pecs. They were gorgeously hard, twitching under his palms. "My head is good for a lot of things. Wanna find out more?"

A quick jerk of Peter's wrist brought their groins flush against one another, and Stiles couldn't hold back a low, needy sound. He was about to offer his mouth to Peter when he heard Peter murmur, "Scott."

Stiles blinked, pulling back slightly. "No, I'm Stiles."

Peter snorted at that. "How unfortunate for you that your parents think so little of you." Then, looking over Stiles' shoulder, he snapped, a little louder, "Scott!" 

"Huh? Oh shit, you were really talking to me?"

Peter pulled back from Stiles, pulled his wallet from his back pocket, removed a twenty dollar bill and a card from it before handing them both to Scott. "Will this cover his tab?"

Scott's eyebrows went up. "Yeah, we… is this your address?! Dude, you carry business cards for picking up strangers? Stiles, man, I don't know about this. He might be a serial killer."

Peter smoothed his hand up Stiles' back, urging him closer again before he smiled sharply at Scott. "If I were a serial killer, I'd slit your throat with that card instead of offering it to you as proof of my identity. First rule of murder: Never leave a witness."

"I'm gonna fucking swoon," Stiles said, utterly serious. 

"Before I'm through with you? Very likely." Peter turned and ushered Stiles toward the door in one smooth motion. "We should hurry. We've wasted most of those ten minutes, and I don't want to miss your comportment lessons."

"Etiquette."

Peter slid one hand to Stiles' chest and pinched his nipple sharply. "Don't be pedantic, child. We're both well aware that what we want from each other is going to be far from polite."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Checkpoint #3!!! Congratulations, bb! Have another bit of fic. :D
> 
> Just a note: Some of you may notice that I changed one thing in Chapter 1: Allison now goes to Berkeley and Scott and Stiles are at SFSU. This would be because I noticed that Berkeley does not offer a Criminal Justice major. Suck.
> 
> Anyway, if you're interested, Stiles is wearing a small version of this shirt: [Allison's Berkeley tee](http://bkstr.scene7.com/is/image/Bkstr/554-C5343-P1145522-Knockout-Pink?%24PDPMain%24).

Stiles barely made it through the doors before he was trying to climb Peter like a goddamn tree. But Peter just chuckled darkly and held him off, murmuring, "My apartment is less than ten minutes from here. Be patient, pup, and we'll both avoid public indecency charges."

Stiles whined, high and frustrated, but contented himself with sticking one hand in the back pocket of Peter's jeans, squeezing his really delicious ass through the tight material. "In ten minutes, I'm getting you naked. Public decency laws be damned."

Peter turned his head and nipped at Stiles' jaw, manhandling him around again — which, rwarr, hello new kink — until he was pressed up against a sleek, expensive looking black car. With Stiles slouching against the car, Peter was able to simply lean forward, one thick thigh slotting between Stiles' legs while he _ate_ at Stiles' mouth. The kiss was fast, full of sharp teeth and curling tongues, and just when Stiles was getting into a groove of rutting against Peter's thigh, Peter stepped back, looking far too composed. 

The car Stiles was pressed up against beeped, signalling that it'd been unlocked, and Stiles jumped, looking around for its owner before he realized Peter was holding a key fob in his hand. "Holy shit," Stiles muttered, pushing away from the car. "This is yours?"

"I don't make a habit of molesting random college students against other people's cars."

"But you do make a habit of molesting random college students?"

Peter's smile was all teeth, and held just enough threat to get Stiles' blood pumping to his dick again. "Are you complaining?"

"Nope. No. Definitely not."

"Then get in the car, Stiles. I have a great many things I want to do tonight; standing here is not one of them."

Scrabbling for the door handle, Stiles lifted it and pulled, tumbling onto the leather front seat with no grace, but full points for speed. He reached for the door to pull it shut, only to have Peter hold onto it a second longer.

"Buckle up," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down Stiles' spine, and then he gently closed the door with a firm push before rounding the car to slide into the driver's seat. "If at any point you have second thoughts—"

"Shut up and drive. I have a great many things I want to ride tonight; your car isn't one of them."

Peter's laugh rolled through the car, and it was all Stiles could do to keep his hands to himself. He couldn't help but note that Peter's foot was a little heavy on the gas, though he only ran one red light — and even then, it was iffy. The argument could be made that they'd been in the intersection before the light changed, though Stiles whipped his head around to look for cops regardless.

When they pulled neatly up to the curb in front of a townhouse, Stiles let out an appreciative whistle before popping the button on his seatbelt and lurching out of the car. Peter didn't wait for him, just walked up the steps to the door and unlocked it before shooting a _hurry up_ look over his shoulder.

Much as Stiles wanted to do a buddy cop movie slide over the hood of Peter's car, he wanted to get laid more, so he restrained himself to a quick jog instead. He took the steps two at a time and pushed into the darkened doorway, not getting a chance to let his eyes adjust before the door was slamming behind him and he was pushed up against it.

Peter's body was thick and hot against his, his mouth latching on to Stiles' neck right there as he reached down and grabbed the back of Stiles' thigh, pulling it up to hitch around his waist. 

"Fuck!" Stiles breathed, hands twisting into the hair at the back of Peter's head, holding him against Stiles' neck as he arched into the press of Peter's body. Once the initial rush of adrenaline wore off, Stiles let his fingers smooth down to the back of Peter's neck, measuring it, seeing if he could fit both hands completely around the circumference. He could, but it was a stretch, and that knowledge alone made him buck against Peter, choking on a moan.

Throwing all sense of propriety out the window — not that he'd ever had any to begin with — Stiles let go of Peter's neck and reached down, sliding his hand between them and gripping Peter's hard cock through his jeans. 

_God_ , it was glorious, thick and weighty in his palm, even as restricted as it was by the tight fit of Peter's clothes. Fingers fumbling, Stiles tore at his button and zip, plunging his fingers into the confines of Peter's jeans and underwear to get his hands on bare skin. Bare _cock_. "I want this in me _yesterday_ ," he groaned, squeezing and stroking Peter until a bead of precome smeared messily over the palm of his hand.


End file.
